Mayhem
by clairenbearen
Summary: She nearly died. SlightAU. Drabble.


Jem made me change.

He had told me that Aunt Alexandra would be absolutely horrified that I'd walked home barefoot and in a costume barely fit for the Ewells.

I wiggled into the scratchy fabric. "Jem?" I asked, trying to find the hole that my head went through.

"What?"

I decided against telling him that I couldn't find my shoes. "What d'ya want me to do with the costume?"

Jem turned to look at me. "Aw, Scout, let's just leave it here. It's awkward to carry, and it's getting late. I don't want Atticus to worry."

I shrugged, scampering after my brother.

We stepped out into the schoolyard, and Jem looked down at my bare feet. "Aw, Scout, where are your shoes?"

"Can't find 'em," I answered.

"Well, like I said, it's getting late, and I don't want Atticus to worry. You c'n get 'em tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday!"

"You can get the janitor to let you in," Jem said harshly, grabbing my elbow and steering me home.

Presently, Jem stopped me, cocking his head to the side and listening. For what, I didn't know. There was hardly even a breeze; the trees weren't even moving.

"Jem, what is it?" I hopped from one foot to the other. Despite the heat that had been there earlier, the night was now cool and stiller than a glass of water sitting on a table.

"Thought I heard something," he said, surveying the darkness behind us.

I could hear it in his voice: he wasn't trying to scare me. He himself was scared.

My voice was a whisper. "J-em?"

"Hush now, Scout."

I hoped that the noise would come again; I hoped that a dog or even a coyote would howl in the darkness.

Only the silence greeted me.

When Jem couldn't find anything in the blackness, he turned again and led me, this time a bit faster, back home. "We just need to get to the road," he whispered in my ear. "Then we're safe."

I would need to ask Atticus later why your heart suddenly starts beating in your throat when you're scared.

"Scout." Jem's hand gripped my elbow even tighter.

"Yeah, Jem?"

"You know that big oak by the Radley place?"

I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see much in this blackness.

"When we reach that oak, Scout, I want you to run faster than you've ever run in your life. Run like a monster is chasing you and the only safe place is Atticus. You hear me, Scout?"

"Yes, sir."

At any other point in time, Jem probably would have gloated about me calling him "sir," but he was far too scared to notice now.

"Okay, Scout. 'Member what I said: the ground is cooler under a tree."

I could hear the rustle of cotton pants behind Jem and myself. I was too scared to ask Jem how our stalker could see us in the dark.

The ground suddenly became cool, and Jem reached out an arm to stop me, just to be sure that the rustler had stopped.

He hadn't.

The man ran fast, his boots heavy on the ground, and I saw the glint of something silver. Jem pushed me as hard as he could, causing me to stumble. "Run, Scout! Run! Run!"

Never had I heard his voice so desperate. I tried to run, but I tripped over a root, stretching my arms out to break my fall. "Jem, Jem, help me, Jem!"

I heard a heavy boot fall beside my ear, and I rolled away from it, hitting my back against the trunk of the great oak. From somewhere near by came scuffling, kicking sounds, sounds of shoes and flesh scraping dirt and roots. Someone rolled against me and I felt Jem. He was up like lightning and pulling me with him.

We were nearly to the road when I felt Jem's hand leave me, felt him jerk backwards to the ground. More scuffling, and there came a dull crunching sound and Jem screamed.

Ignoring the overwhelming instinct that told me to run, I turned towards Jem's scream and ran. I ran into a man's stomach and heard an "umph." Wide-eyed, I looked up and saw Bob Ewell sneering down at me.

I turned to run, but I felt his clammy hand grab me. "Git back 'ere, you filthy whore-house."

I wrenched my arm from his grasp and ran again, but he was faster than me. I felt cool metal slice against my forearm and I screamed long and loud and clear.

"Shut your trap, ya hear?" Bob Ewell's right hand wrapped around my throat. I couldn't breathe.

Bob Ewell turned the knife in his left hand, deciding what to do next. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't fight back. I closed my eyes as he brought up the blade, silently begging Atticus to come to Jem's and my rescue.

It all happened so suddenly that I don't know what happened first. I know Bob Ewell released me, and I know that my shoulder suddenly felt extreme pain from his kitchen-knife. I know that Mr. Ewell was no longer trying to kill myself or Jem, but instead he was trying to kill Mr. Radley.

I crawled away from the fight, my heart in my throat, trying to find Jem. Another blood-curdling scream pierced the air, and then I heard it, so softly that I thought I imagined it.

"Scout?" His voice sounded like he was underwater, a million miles away. "Arthur? What's going on?" Again, the voice was too far away for me to register it.

I looked up and saw my father running in my direction faster than I'd seen him do anything before. I forced myself to my feet, running as fast as I could to him.

"Daddy!" I called to him, and I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me tight, almost as if he was not ever going to let me go.

To this day, the only time I've ever called Atticus by anything other than his name was that night, the night that I was more scared than a dog during a thunderstorm as I ran into his arms.

"Scout." Atticus's voice was a choked whisper, and he cradled my head with his left hand. ""Arthur?" he called. I suppose that Mr. Radley did something because I heard my father then say, "Can you get Jem? They both need a doctor."

I was dizzy, and I tried to say so, but for some reason, the words wouldn't leave my mouth. I don't know when we reached the house, I don't know when Atticus deposited me in my bed, practically begging Aunt Alexandra and Calpurnia to call Dr. Reynolds and Heck Tate, but I recognized the fear in my father's voice.

"She's losing blood!" I heard him call, and that was the last thing I remember hearing before I fell asleep.

The last thing I remember seeing was Boo Radley standing over me, worry written on his face.


End file.
